Redeeming Love (62 page)

“I wish I could have your faith.”

“You could ask for it.” Susanna grinned.

Angel felt a stab of pain. “You remind me of Miriam.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Susanna’s expression softened. “Faith in God hasn’t come easily to me, either, whatever you may believe.” She got up. “Come on. I want to show you something.” She held out her hand.

They went into Susanna’s bedroom where they had talked many times before. Susanna let go of Angel’s hand and got down on the floor and ducked beneath the bedspread. She took out a box and put it on the bed. “I have to get down on my knees to get it,” she said, dusting off her hands as 430

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she got up. “I should dust under there one of these days.” She tucked a loose curl of dark hair back into her bun and sat. “Sit down,” she said, patting the bed. Angel did as she was asked, looking curiously at the container between them.

Susanna put the container on her lap. “This is my God box,” she said.

“When problems prey on my mind, I write them down, fold them up, and put them through the slot. Once they’re inside this box, they’re God’s problem and not mine.”

Angel laughed. Susanna sat solemnly looking at her, and Angel’s mirth died. “You are joking, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m quite serious.” She rested her hands on the box. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it works. I’m a fixer, Angel. A worrier. I’ve never been able to just let things go. I want to play God, if you will.” She smiled in self-mockery. “Every time I do, things go awry.” She patted the box. “So I have this.”

“A simple brown hatbox,” Angel said dryly.

“Yes, a plain, ordinary hatbox, but it reminds me to put faith in God and not in myself. The bonus comes when I see my prayers answered.” Her mouth twitched. “I can see you think I’m out of my mind. Shall I show you?” She took the top off. Inside were dozens of small papers, neatly folded.

She sifted through them and took one at random, opening it.

“‘Cherry needs a home,’” she read. The note was dated. “I like to know how long it takes God to answer.” She laughed at herself. “Since this prayer’s been answered, I won’t put the note back in the box.” She folded it and put it on the bedspread beside her and took out another note.

“‘God, give me patience with Papa. If he brings another prospective husband to the house, I may join a convent. And you know I would make a very bad nun.’” Angel laughed with her. “I’d better leave that one in the box.” She took out another. She was silent for a moment before she read,

“‘Please make Faith’s nightmares go away. Protect her from the evil one.’” She folded it and put it back in the box. “Do you see what I mean?”

“I think so,” Angel said. “What if God says no?”

The possibility didn’t distress her. “Then he’s got something else in mind, something better than what you would think up for yourself.” She frowned 431

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and looked down at the full box. “Angel, it’s not always easy to accept.” She closed her eyes and let her breath out slowly. “I had everything planned out for myself at one time. As soon as I met Steven I knew exactly what I wanted and what I was going to do. He was handsome and vibrant. He was studying to be a minister, and he was full of such fire and zeal.” She smiled. “We were going to go west and spread the gospel to the Indians.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with pain.

“Did he leave you?”

“In a manner of speaking. He was killed. It was so senseless. He used to go down to the worst sections of the city and talk to men in the saloons. He said they needed God more than others more fortunate did. He wasn’t going to be a rich man’s pastor. Apparently one night a man was being badly beaten in an alley, and Steven tried to stop it. He was stabbed to death.” Her face jerked, and she bit her lip.

“I’m sorry, Susanna,” Angel said, feeling her friend’s grief as though it were her own.

Susanna clenched her hand, tears filled her eyes and slowly trickled down her pale cheeks. “I blamed God. I was so angry. Why Steven? Why someone so good, someone with so much to offer? I was even angry at Steven. Why had he been fool enough to go down to those horrible places?

Why bother with those people? They’d made their choices, hadn’t they?”

She sighed. “It was all such a muddle, my emotions at war. It was no comfort to me at all to know that Steven was with the Lord. I wanted him with
me.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I still do.”

Angel took her hand and squeezed it. She knew how it felt to long for someone with your whole being and know he would forever be out of reach.

Susanna looked at her. “You said you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do from here. Well, we’re both in the same boat.” She smiled again.

“But it’ll come, Angel. I know it will come.”

The top of the box slipped off the bed, and she let go of Angel’s hand to retrieve it. As she bent over, the box spilled notes all over the floor. Angel went down on her knees with her to help her gather them together and put them back in the hatbox. So many slips of papers, so many prayers.

Susanna picked up one and glanced at it. She sat back on her heels and 432

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smiled, the pallor leaving her cheeks and the light coming back into her eyes. Smiling, she kept it in her hand as Angel put all the others back in the box and fit the top on. Susanna slid the container back beneath the bed.

“Sometimes he answers quickly.” Still smiling, she held the note out to Angel. “Read this.”

Angel took it and laboriously made out the neatly scripted words. “‘God, please,
PLEASE,
I need a friend I can talk to.’”

It was dated the day before Angel came home with Jonathan.

Michael loaded his wagon with bags of wheat and headed for Sacramento.

There was a mill on the way where he could have the grain ground and properly sacked for market. It had been a good harvest. He would make enough to buy a few head of cattle and a couple of piglets. By next year, he would have bacon and ham for smoking and beef to sell.

He spent the night beside a stream where he and Angel had stopped.

Sitting in the moonlight, looking at the pool, he was filled with thoughts of her. He could almost smell the sweet scent of her skin in the night breeze.

His body tingled and grew warm. He remembered her hesitant smile and the startled look whenever he breached her considerable defenses.

Sometimes it was just a word or a look that did it unexpectedly, and he had felt elation during those moments, as though he, and not God, had accomplished the impossible. Lowering his head, Michael wept.

Yes, he had learned he was powerless. He had learned a man can live after a woman breaks his heart. He had learned he could live without her.

But, oh, God, I’ll miss her until I die.
He would feel this ache inside himself, wondering if she was all right, if she was taking care of herself, if she was safe from harm. Reminding himself that God was watching over her, too, didn’t help. Angel’s own words always came back to haunt him.

“Oh, I know God. Do something wrong, and he’ll squash you like a bug.”

Did she still believe that? Had his own faith and conviction been so weak that she couldn’t see it? Had the cruelty she had suffered and her own powerlessness against it taught her nothing? Did she still think she had control of her life?

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As the tormenting thoughts built in his mind, he reached back and clung to one simple Scripture.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on
your own understanding.”
Sweat beaded his brow, and he clenched his hands.

Trust in the Lord, trust in the Lord.
He said it over and over to himself until his mind eased and his body relaxed.

And then Michael prayed for Angel, not that she would ever come back to him, but that she would find God for herself.

When he pulled out in the morning, he swore to himself that no matter the temptation, he wouldn’t search for his wife when he reached Sacramento.

And he would never set foot in San Francisco.

“Angel! Angel!”

Angel’s whole body jerked as someone called out her name. Why had she felt the urge to come down here to the square? She should have gone home as soon as she finished visiting with Virgil. He had fired another cook and tried to talk her into coming back to work for him. She almost wished she hadn’t come and raised his hopes.

She’d found herself wandering along the streets again, passing a theater and a saloon. Her old haunting grounds. She didn’t know why she was here.

She had just gone out for a walk to think things through, to try to make some plans, and felt compelled to come back here. It was more than dis-heartening.

And now, someone from her past was pressing through the crowd and coming after her. She had the urge to run and not look back.

“Angel, wait!”

Gritting her teeth, she stopped and turned around. She recognized the young woman coming toward her immediately. And seeing her again, she could feel herself straightening up and putting on the mask of disdain and calm. “Hello, Torie,” she said, tilting her chin slightly.

Torie’s eyes swept her up and down. “I couldn’t believe it was you. You look so
different.”
She looked uncertain. “Are you still married to that farmer?”

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Angel felt the pain before she could batten it down. “No, not anymore.”

“Too bad. He was rather special. There was something about him.…” She shrugged. “Well, that’s life, I guess.” She looked at Angel’s doe brown dress and cape and worried her lower lip. “You aren’t in the business anymore, are you?”

“No. I haven’t been for over two years.”

“You heard about Lucky?”

Angel nodded. Dear, dear Lucky.

“Mai Ling was in the fire, too.”

“I know.” She wanted to cut this conversation short and go back to the big house on the hill. She didn’t want to think about the past. She didn’t want to look at Torie and see how she had aged. She didn’t want to recognize the hopelessness in her eyes.

“Well, at least Magowan got what he deserved,” Torie said. She stared at Angel’s pristine collar.

“Meg’s dying of the pox,” she went on. “The Duchess turned her out as soon as she found out. I used to see Meggie once in a while, sleeping in a doorway with a bottle of gin in her hand.” She raised one shoulder. “Not lately though.”

“Are you still with the Duchess?”

Torie gave a laugh. “Nothing ever changes. At least, for some of us.” A cynical smile lingered. “It’s not so bad, really. She just built a new place, and she’s got a good cook. I’m doing all right. I’ve even got a little money laid aside for my future.”

Angel felt a heaviness in her chest. Was Torie pretending she was fine when she was bleeding to death inside? Torie talked on, but Angel hardly heard a word she said. She kept looking into Torie’s eyes and seeing things she had never recognized before. And it all came back to her, everything she had ever experienced from the time she was eight years old. The pain and loneliness of it…and it was there in Torie’s eyes, too.

“Well, I’ve kept you long enough talking about the good old times,” Torie said, smiling bleakly. “I’d better get back to work. One more today and then I can relax.”

As she started to turn away, Angel felt the strangest rush within her.

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Warmth filled her, then a burst of energy and assurance such as she had never experienced before. She reached out quickly and stopped Torie. “Have lunch with me,” she said, so excited she was trembling.

“Me?” Torie was as surprised as Angel.

“Yes, you!” Angel said, smiling. She felt as though she would burst with the ideas expanding inside her. She knew! She knew what God wanted her to do. She knew
exactly
what he wanted. “I know a little cafe just around the corner.” She looped her arm through Torie’s and drew her along. “The proprietor’s name is Virgil. You’ll like him. And I know he’s going to be pleased to meet you.”

Torie was too stunned to protest.

“Did she say where she was going?” Jonathan asked his distraught daughter.

“No, Father. You know how restless she’s been these past weeks. This morning she said she was going to go out for a walk. She wanted to go alone to think. She hasn’t been back since. I think something’s happened to her.”

“You don’t know that at all,” Priscilla said. “You’re letting your emotions take over. Angel knows how to take care of herself.”

“Your mother’s right,” Jonathan agreed, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

If Angel wasn’t home in another hour, he would take the carriage out and go looking for her.

Susanna stopped her pacing long enough to peer out the curtain. “It’s getting dark. Oh! There she is. She’s coming up the hill.” She swung around, eyes blazing. “She smiled and waved!” She swished the lace curtains closed and marched toward the foyer. “I’m going to tell her what I think of her worrying us half sick!”